Jonathan Goodman

Jonathan Goodman paused for a moment, examining his notes lying on the table in some sort of creative disarray. The notes in the margins here and there, made the document difficult to read, but Jonathan himself knew which parts he could safely ignore, and which ones actually carried the bulk of the information. Which symbols, scrawled in the corners of the pages, he could discard with complete confidence, and which ones required his full concentration and further refinement.

Surely, who but the creator of these notes and inscriptions could have known about the peculiarities of the dry document encrypted in the lines. It's almost a form of encryption in and of itself.

There may, however, be a few other people in this world besides Jonathan that could read it, but all of these people, Jonathan trusted… well, almost all of them.

Jonathan Goodman. Mage, king, cripple, hero, outlaw, future headmaster of the Hermes Hunter Academy.

How many titles Jonathan Goodman has managed to gain in his not-so-long life?

Twenty-four years, it's amazing how much can happen in a short twenty-four years of life. In six years, or even in one day.

One day was all it needed for Jonathan Goodman's life to turn upside down, when Jonathan Goodman found himself in a world so unfamiliar, and so strange.

One decision to reach out to Cinder Fall, and when he made the decision to stay in Glenn. One fight for him to bring the shards of the moon down to earth.

One day for him to announce the organization of the Glenn Monarchy.

One day to find himself on the brink of death without feeling a noose attached to his neck.

Just one day could change a man's life so dramatically, their future, even their entire identity.

What would have happened if Jonathan Goodman had not been in Atlas when he had first arrived in Remnant, but in Mantle instead? Vale? Or even in the land of Grimm?

Who would Jonathan Goodman have been then?

Jonathan glanced in the mirror placed on his desk and looked away.

Who was he now?

Jonathan Goodman.

That was not Jonathan's real name.

Mages of the Order of Hermes had always had a special reverence for names.

And every mage of the Order of Hermes had four names.

The name given to them at birth. Darwin Alexander Bradford.

A young naturalist.

A craftsman's name. The name a mage received in the course of their training, a name by which the mage was known in their 'professional' circles. Jonathan Arian Goodman, bani Hermetica.

A Shadow Name. A name that mages rarely used, a combinatorial name used exclusively in old rituals and ceremonies. This name Jonathan never officially managed to get.

A shadow name was generally made up from a combination of the name of a mage's birth name and a craft name, peppered with a list of titles and metaphorical descriptions. The name was only used on rare occasions. When a mage is appointed to the position of Master, an official duel, certamen, the court of the bani Quaesitor.

Such a name was usually bequeathed to a mage from the hands of their teacher, then confirmed in front of the Council of the Order, and afterwards added to according to their liking.

There were no direct rules in making a Shadow name. Anyone could add any title or any phrase they wished. And, while high-sounding statements such as the most powerful mage in the universe would only elicit laughter and anger from some, strictly speaking, there was no official ban on such things.

Jonathan never got his shadow name. Were he to make one, what could he add to his list of titles?

Alexander-Jonathan Darwin-Arian Bradford-Goodman, King-under-Mountain, Victor of unstoppable darkness, Savior of the Desolated…

Tyrant. Murderer. Executioner.

Jonathan exhaled and looked away from the mirror, staring at his study instead.

The walls are made up of carved panels, each pattern a multitude of swirls and geometric symbols concentrating into a single pattern.

Seals. Symbols. Pentagrams.

Teleportation points, Anti-teleportation restraints, Ready-to-use portals, Self-destruct systems, Sources of quintessence, Anti-magic restrictions.

And on the mosaic tile floor? Traps. Lots and lots of traps.

Jonathan Goodman's very own impregnable fortress.

Located on the first floor of the Glenn royal residence, officially just a small room. One of the most secure havens in the entire world.

And inside, the king-under-the-hill himself, Jonathan Goodman.

Just one day can change a man's destiny, can one day change the destiny of an entire nation? The whole world?

One day when Jonathan Goodman killed a man.

Not accidentally, or something done in the heat of the moment, acting out of emotion, out of necessity, but purposefully. With a sense of purpose, executing a death sentence.

From that day on, Jonathan Goodman had no excuse for himself.

We have the blood of a man on our hands, not an innocent one, but still a living one.

What next?

Next, was living with it.

Jonathan once asked an old man.

Is it hard to kill a man?

Killing a man is easy. Living with it is hard.

One life-changing day.

Jonathan Goodman didn't want to die, he really didn't. He liked living, he liked being alive.

And he didn't want to kill.

Too bad our thoughts are only material under certain conditions, huh, Jonathan?

And there he is, Jonathan Goodman. King of Glenn. The crowd's favorite, in Glenn at least. A survivor of assassination attempts. The man who tripled the funding for the Special Services, and doubled their numbers. Who gave them free rein to do what they want.

Aisa was never shy about the means to an end. Special Services existed to do the dirty work, which means there was no job dirty enough for Special Services to refrain from doing it.

But the man who put the final signature on the document, and allowed them to do so, was Jonathan Goodman.

The right to pre-trial confiscation of the liquid and illiquid assets of individuals and entities accused of treason and those related with them.

A bureaucratic formulation, which reeked of dry lines and faded ink, as if straight from an old law book taken from the farthest and dustiest shelf of the vault, in it, a key to dictatorship.

The right to full confiscation of any property and any money of any person suspected of high treason, or any crime deemed 'serious enough'.

One word, and any man of Glenn could lose everything they ever had.

At his word.

The right to pre-trial detention of those suspected of treason and persons of equivalent status.

At his word, anyone can be grabbed on the street, and taken to anywhere in Glenn.

The right to special jurisdiction over the actions of RATS operatives against persons suspected of treason and persons of equivalent status.

The right to special jurisdiction over persons charged with high treason and persons related to them.

At the snap of his fingers, anyone could disappear from the face of the earth, from the face of Remnant. Forever.

Jonathan Goodman did not propose these laws. Aisa made them.

Jonathan Goodman's signature was on all these laws.

Jonathan Goodman could have refused to sign them, could have withdrawn them right now, when Aisa could no longer contradict him. He could have.

But he didn't.

Twice, Jonathan had taken advantage of the laws that would make any libertarian cry foul. Twice.

Or, those were the only times that he knew of, at least. He was sure there were much more.

Jonathan Goodman had taken a lot of responsibility and power on himself, perhaps too much.

Outside Jonathan Goodman's office window hung a poster with large words emblazoned on it.

The will to rule.

On the poster was him, with His face, 'beautified'. A more prominent chin, sharper cheekbones, a more piercing gaze. A face that inspired people with…

Confidence.

Whatever needed to be done, we would do it.

Jonathan did not sit idly by.

A special equipment supply unit was created, the Teagle Division.

A secret unit, secret even to the secret services.

Twenty-four personally selected individuals making equipment for the rest of the RATS, for the rest of the world.

The division that created the Artifacts, equipment for his war machine, creating the power of the RATS. Glenn's Relics. Jonathan's personal project.

Next to the poster is another sign.

The official shop of the combined Glenn and Menagerie Dust Corporation.

A Dust Corporation borne of the initiative of investors from Glenn and Menagerie. The result of bringing their economy up to the same standards. The result of the mutual integration of the two states.

A little further down the street is a larger, even newer building.

Mistral State Bank, Glenn branch.

The result of international recognition of Glenn. At this point, only Atlas has so far not officially recognized Glenn's existence as a sovereign state, even Vale, after all the diplomatic delays, thanks to Ozpin's influence, has done so.

There are numerous people and faunus walking down the street. A young lad among them, carrying a briefcase inlaid with a certain insignia, with a disgruntled expression on his face.

A student of the High Royal School.

The one for whom Jonathan Goodman has done all these things for. The youth who would step into office after their parents, the one who would lead in the future.

A decree to lower the age of jurisdiction for those charged with treason and those who are associated with them. If that 'lad' was a traitor, he would be gone too.

Jonathan slowly lifted his fingers, and if he snapped them as he looked out the window?

The young lad would be executed without trial.

It was so easy to do. Too easy.

Jonathan was terrified at the thought.

He had the power of magic in his hands.

But it was his words that frightened him. The words he could say.

Execute him as a traitor to the state, and it would be done. No trials, no defense.

It seemed difficult for Jonathan to even imagine, it was hard to formulate the thought in his head. It was hard to strain his parched mouth, strain his vocal cords and say it.

But it wasn't actually difficult. It was terrifyingly easy. It was a lot easier than Jonathan thought it would be. Much easier than he wanted it to be.

The young girl strolling down the street glanced through the windows of the houses before she came across Jonathan's figure visible in the window and smiled in surprise, waving to him. Jonathan smiled back and slowly waved, to which she immediately perked up and smiled even more.

With a snap of his fingers, she would be gone. No name, no possessions, no grave.

One snap and everyone on this street was dead. Never even born. No paperwork, no mention. It's like they never existed.

We're powerful, Jonathan. How many are capable of creating the Node? How many are capable of warping space? How many mages do we know, Jonathan, that can wipe out a city with the snap of one's fingers?

We can do it all, Jonathan. It doesn't scare us.

Why do words scare us? Snaps of the fingers? Signed documents?

Personal firing ranges. Secret services. All achieved in twenty-four years…

Twenty-three.

Jonathan blinked.

You are twenty-three years old.

Jonathan blinked again.

When I woke up in the morning, there was the number 'twenty-four' on my papers. I'm pretty sure that I am twenty-four years old.

No, you are twenty-three years old.

Jonathan frowned, looking away from the window.

When you got the fake papers from Bor, you had to lie to get the papers. On it is not your real age, but a year older to get legal custody of Cinder. You said you were eighteen, not seventeen.

Jonathan blinked.

Indeed, such a thing, it was.

Jonathan Goodman is now twenty-three years old.

Jonathan blinked and focused his gaze not on what was outside the window, but on the glass reflecting back at himself.

What about you?

Cinder Fall is the best student in all of Glenn, the head of all Glenn's youth, the unannounced princess of Glenn.

Cinder Fall is a brand. Companies pay her to wear their clothes, eat in their restaurants, use their scrolls.

Cinder Fall is famous, influential, beautiful, smart, outgoing, strong, the front page of any fashion magazine would pay dearly to have her there.

Cinder Fall was also a bit eccentric. Within her own, acceptable limits for a genius, that is.

Cinder Fall is First Master of the Order of Hermes. A school club slash activist movement. Not official, of course, even being herself, Cinder Fall was only fifteen years old, she simply could not register any political parties or movements herself. It was just a little entertainment for her circle of friends.

An elite club of sorts for her own kind, harmless childish fun.

Certainly, it was well organized, but for someone like her, it was to be expected.

The members of the so-called 'Order of Hermes' numbered thirty children and teenagers close to her age, her closest friends. Children of tycoons, laborers, soldiers, Hunters, Faunus, and engineers. A large sampling from the most diverse corners of society, but it was just a fluke. Nothing more than that.

Cinder Fall was very fond of spending time with her club.

For example, for fun, her so-called Order of Hermes had a training week at an army training center not too long ago. Just wishing to test what it really was, the soldier's lot. Cinder Fall, of course, was the commander. As part of her entertainment.

Her 'order' was also a study group. Many people saw them studying together, mostly running ahead of the current curriculum, helping each other with their studies.

Cinder Fall is very well known as someone who can be relied upon, and whose answers can be taken as concrete fact.

However, since Cinder's grades and the results of the additional training were entirely positive, no one thought to bother them, it was just children playing, after all.

Cinder Fall was virtually single-handedly raising their children, instilling the right social behavior in them and advancing their studies and grades, wasn't that wonderful?

Cinder Fall was also a bit eccentric in terms of her hobbies. Many a time the people of Glenn noticed her drawing symbols in the margins of her notebooks, but as it didn't distract her from solving problems, teachers turned a blind eye to the little additions. It was quite artistic, after all, nothing to cause worry there.

Cinder Fall also worked closely with her adoptive father, the King of Glenn, a very prominent, though paradoxically secretive person. Sometimes asking very interesting questions about the nature of Grimm or auras, showing her inquisitive and lively mind.

Cinder Fall was also quite famous for her extravagant lifestyle and fashion. Two years ago, Cinder sparked a wave of interest in tattoos as she was spotted sporting one small one on her back, in the form of a captivating geometric pattern. There was, however, no secret meaning to this tattoo, of course. It was just a pattern with no meaning, a tribute to fashion, just like the two earrings she never forgot to wear under any circumstances.

Purely as a tribute to fashion.

Cinder Fall was also famous as a young philanthropist, following the footsteps of King Osmond. Her visits to orphanages, schools and hospitals were always accompanied by substantial donations from her personal accounts.

Cinder Fall was also famous for actually taking Nora Valkyrie, a young orphan from the Royal Orphanage, into her own care. Even more so, young Nora sought to emulate her role model in everything, and Cinder indulged her young protégé, even introducing her to the Order. Few people didn't smile when looking at such an attitude from the seemingly strict Cinder Fall.

Cinder Fall was one of Mount Glenn's most prominent figures. Many were aware of her friendship with Blake Belladonna, the young future heiress of the White Fang. The future princess of the budding Kingdom of Menagerie.

Exclusively on the basis of their fathers' companionship, of course.

Cinder Fall was the poster child for excellence. The kind of child you only see in commercials, cheering with a white-toothed smile for the next product. The kind of child who appears with the caption, 'if you want your child to be successful like her - just follow these instructions!'

Some people thought of Cinder Fall differently.

Some thought Cinder Fall was good at calculating her steps ahead of time. See Cinder's club as a method for manipulating the young, looking far into the future, believed that the unexpectedly elevated social status of the people in her social circle were chosen from various social strata for a reason.

Some believed that the tattoo on her back, personally applied by King Jonathan's hand, was a spell of sorts, that her earrings were in fact artifacts.

Some believed that by inducting them to do her bidding so early, to rely on her for everything, to trust her unconditionally, the people of her 'order' were becoming her future puppets.

Some believed that Cinder Fall wore inconspicuous clothes straight from the secret ranges of the RATS.

Some see Cinder Fall becoming a living idol in the faces of children, the sick, the desperate, bringing them gifts, help, sometimes salvation, all to manipulate their loyalties.

Some thought that Cinder Fall had connections she shouldn't have. In the secret services, in the army, in the government, and even in many businesses.

Some people disappeared.

And of course, these suspicions they had, had nothing to do with it.

After all, the people who disappeared weren't who thought differently about Cinder Fall.

It was usually other people who disappeared.

Their relatives. Friends. Colleagues.

Sometimes their families were destroyed.

Sometimes they left Glenn entirely.

Sometimes they were punished by the courts for weapons possession, for selling drugs, for financial fraud, for a myriad other reasons.

Sometimes they were found by the Grimm.

Sometimes they were found by gangsters.

Sometimes they were never found.

So there were very, very few people who thought differently about Cinder Fall, things that are completely untrue to her real personality.

And if they did think about it, they preferred to keep quiet about it. And if they didn't?

Well, Cinder Fall was a genius, after all. She was allowed a certain amount of eccentricity.

Neo glanced, frowning, at the notes in front of her, as she continued to trace her pen in a pattern on the margins of her notebook. No, not the pattern Jonathan had taught her, there was no precision to her drawings, simply randomness, done out of boredom, as she was unable to think of anything else to do.

Her gaze shifted to the clock, counting second by second with the small hand.

Second by second, minute by minute, until she was freed from this hell.

Neo hated mathematics, she really did. She simply had no talent for it, and found no reason to force herself to learn it. She could add prime numbers, do all the four operations, and even when letters appeared in equations, she wasn't even confused, much.

But when gradually all the numbers began to disappear from her equations, she began to lose touch with reality as the letters blend together into nonsense. And when signs other than the usual pluses and minuses came into play, she gave up for good.

She simply could not understand it, you could show how it's supposed to be done in front of her eyes, making her repeat each step, and she would nod, seemingly even understanding what was happening herself.

Change the question the slightest bit in the next equation? Nada. Once again, nothing and complete emptiness.

Neo wasn't stupid per se, it's just that, see! Some people just don't get this or that subject in any way, maybe because of their mindset, or maybe for some other reason.

Neo asked Jonathan if he had seen a curse on her that forbade her to actually understand math, but he just smiled and told her that there was no such curse on her. Of course, the fact that such a curse existed didn't pass her by. Too bad, it would have been so much easier to explain her poor grades in the subject with such a curse.

Neo shifted her gaze towards Cinder who was sitting at the next desk, who had already neatly set her pen aside, looking around her surroundings with an attentive eye, resting her head on the hands placed in front of her. The bottom line was that both Cinder and Neo were already just bored at the moment, for entirely different reasons.

Neo was bored because she didn't understand what was going on in class anyway and wasn't paying attention to her work. While Cinder was clearly bored because she'd already passed the topic discussed in class, maybe even by three years or so, Neo wouldn't theorize on that particular topic.

If Neo had been a wizard, how much easier it would have been for her!

Jonathan must have lied about needing math for witchcraft.

Though, even if he was lying, not that Neo had many other reliable sources suitable to verify this information.

Neo felt her boredom slowly make her gaze begin to glaze over.

Jonathan knows how to teleport! Open portals! Create artifacts! And she doesn't, how unfair is that?!

Cinder, probably feeling Neo's gaze on her, turned to her for a moment and smiled for a moment before turning towards the front of the class again, playing the role of a model student…

She was probably already planning some kind of ritual in her head.

Something which wouldn't have worked anyway, but Jonathan would have said that she was a good girl again, and Cinder didn't need more than that. Neo would have enjoyed the praise from Jonathan too, of course, but it would have been much better for Neo if she had access to magic as well!

No, I mean, Neo got her Semblance! And hey, it was cool! She now had the ability to create illusions, and extremely high quality ones at that, Jonathan even said so!

Dense illusions that could be touched! Admittedly, it still came with some limitations. First, the illusions didn't convey texture at all to the touch, and she had to concentrate all the time to maintain them. Second, she can't separate too far from the illusion, or it would be displaced. And thirdly, there were limitations on their size and the time Neo could keep them real. And many, many more limitations… She preferred to have magic powers instead!

Though if she has to study math to do it…

It just wasn't fair! How could Jonathan show Neo something that was so much cooler than a dinky Semblance! Magic! Very real magic from children's fairy tales, and not given something like that!

Compared to Jonathan's magic, the Semblance that had once seemed like a dream to her now looked more like a mere consolation prize!

No, Neo could certainly reassure herself that she was actually studying magic… But not exactly the 'cool' magic.

When Jonathan had announced that he was a mage, Neo had expected… Well, at first she'd expected him to be just crazy. He was a King after all, a bit of eccentricity was to be expected, and with a Semblance as powerful as Jonathan's was supposed to be, it might be a common mistake to have. Calling Semblances magic wasn't exactly rare.

But, after demonstrating his abilities, Neo had expected that she herself would now become a mage, and that it would be magic like throwing fireballs by drawing some sort of pentagram. Well, strictly speaking, something like that existed in reality, and Jonathan did say that he can teach her that… in the future.

The problem is that books about young mages usually leave out the parts in which those same mages actually learn to do magic. It all comes down to a rather vague 'training' of sorts. And after waxing poetic about something or other, something about towers? What the heck even is 'paradox'? Then ten or twenty pages later the reader knows that a magician can move his hand, shout something, and a fireball appears.

Nobody goes into the details of how this fireball can be thrown, or even made, and even if they do, it is very general.

Nobody teaches you how many degrees the angle in the pentagram has to be for the fireball! No calculation on the right length of the angles, or even what formulas are used to calculate the strength of this or that ritual!

It was even worse than math!

At least in mathematics, Neo had a rough understanding of how things worked, how to use the numbers and letters. Some sort of formula was performed on them and everything came to a statement of whether this is equal or not equal to some number.

It was simple and straightforward.

How was she supposed to understand a phrase like 'for this ritual, there had to be the symbol of the beast Aer and the star of Terra in the circle'? What kind of beast does Aer have? What kind of symbol is that even? Terra? There 'had to be'? Were there supposed to be any other symbols? Nada. Nothing.

This was beyond the scope of her training!

And so she had to sit in the library, figuring out on her own which symbol meant what and corresponded to what. Her! Neo, in the library! Seriously! While Trifa was playing football with the boys!

And after all that, she had made a mistake, apparently. Jonathan told her that she hadn't taken into account the correction for the moon turning the other way today and should have turned the hexagonal star according to the new position of the moon!

For what and why!? Why didn't they include that in the book!?

When Neo thought about mages, even if she thought of the mages in their towers, she didn't think about why the hell had they climbed into those towers in the first place!

Because they were sitting there counting some nonsense!

Neo dropped her head on her folded hands in front of her before raising her eyes again.

Thirty seconds had passed from her last glance at the clock… And the most frustrating part wasn't even that magic ended up being a boring nonsense of counting and drawing, with a ruler! She was drawing pentagrams with a ruler! And in the fact that after all that there was no fireball tossing waiting for her! No, Jonathan's training was purely theoretical, as part of a general course.

When's the course for shooting fireballs! Or lasers! She might even be okay if she could just fly! Judging by the stupidity that is reversing a symbol because the moon looked different today, she needs an entire class to learn a single spell!

Of course, it was interesting to learn about the existence of other worlds, but what difference did it make if Neo couldn't go there herself! That was even worse than luring a child with candy and not giving them candy in the end!

It's bad enough for adults to lure children using candies, to not actually have any candy in the end!?

So she had learned that the world was made up of five elements, and then what? She was practically tricked into just learning a few extra subjects and more math, saying it was magic!

Neo felt more cheated than she'd ever felt in her life.

At least Jonathan had given her a few gifts after that, but still…

Neo lifted her gaze slightly from her hands before looking up at Cinder and sighing regretfully. As usual, she's dressed in some kind of designer clothes mimicking actual uniforms, if only costing a normal family an actual leg. She knows, she checked.

There was actually a school uniform for the Royal Glenn School, but Cinder and Neo were allowed some indulgences. Being so close, Neo could see the outline of a small circle and a pentagonal star inscribed into Cinder's back, with a hexagon resting in the center, the tattoo clearly visible on Cinder's back.

Neo had the same tattoo, and Neo also knew that the pattern was actually even more intricate than it might appear to the eye. If one looked very closely, they would be able to see that each side of this symbol was not a solid black line. It was in fact a succession of other patterns, intertwining in lines and curls, circles and squares, lines and stripes.

Jonathan locked himself in his office for a month, redrawing one line after another until he had the final perfect version, now tattooed on the backs of his two adopted daughters.

It was hard for Neo to even remember the complete list of everything that fit into the small tattoo.

Emergency teleportation to dozens of predetermined locations, extra aura reserves for emergencies, an emergency channel of communication with each other, with Jonathan himself and a separately selected squad of RATS. Emergency pass, giving access to several caches of cash, weapons, Dust, food, medicine, clothing, and even miscellaneous household items.

That last one, Neo even had to use once. That dinner at Trifa's house… she would remember that for a long time.

And that was just to list a few. The one that stores aura reserves? Neo wasn't even going to ask Jonathan exactly how it worked, or she'd be dragged in for a two-hour lecture on the principles of quintessence. Something which she didn't understand anyway… wasn't it just Dust?

But that wasn't enough for Jonathan. And so, along with the tattoo, the value of which was already approaching the price of Schnee's entire dust company, even before the Mega-corporation was broken up, Jonathan had made another gift for Cinder and Neo.

It had originally been two rings, but the strange thing was that Cinder had refused.

It was strange for Neo, they were, after all, close friends, and it was hard for her not to notice… A certain… Okay, it was worth calling things by their proper names, Cinder's obsession with Jonathan.

She herself had later explained that she didn't want Jonathan to give her any kind of ring before it all became official, the implication clear. And so, Cinder's rings were changed to earrings, and it suited her.

Neo didn't really care either way, and just accepted the rings, though the glare from Cinder was uncalled for!

Wearing the rings on the index finger of her right hand, Neo could actually feel the magic inside. Okay, maybe not so much the magic, but the rings definitely have a presence to them!

It was another added form of insurance from Jonathan, and judging by what Jonathan had told the both of them, there was so much magic stored inside that Neo could cure a couple of hospitals with a single touch.

The rings were an analyzer and neutralizer for disease and poisoning. The latter was added after Neo's personal request.

Trifa was a lethal cook, and we'll leave it at that.

And that was just the beginning.

The clothes she was wearing now? A secret RATS project, so secret and valuable that one mention of it could make one disappear from official records forever, it has the protective qualities of an average bomb shelter.

The hairpin? There was so much energy in it, that if she wanted to, Neo could power half of Glenn just by throwing it into the furnace at the power station, or blow a quarter of it off the maps. Neo wasn't even sure exactly why she needed such a thing. Jonathan, on the other hand, had simply said that it was better to have something like that than not to have it, and Neo had to agree to that.

Her trainers? It could scorch a small horde of Grimm solely by their presence.

Neo sighed and shifted her gaze.

Thirty more seconds had passed… Hah, she was running out of things to occupy her mind!

Lately, Jonathan had… Changed, perhaps.

No, he was still the same Jonathan as before, but… Different somehow?

The failed assassination attempt, it had forced him to reconsider his perception of reality especially his vulnerability, and the vulnerability of those close to him.

No, Neo was only glad that Jonathan had begun to worry a lot more about his safety. But, paradoxically, it was when Jonathan began to pay a lot more attention to his safety that he began to put himself in more danger.

Neo was mute, not blind. She saw him disappear from the house sometimes, only to return tired, hungry, dirty… sometimes even injured.

Neo would ask him what exactly he was doing, to which he would only keep silent, or answer evasively, saying that he was busy doing something with Ozpin.

Neo knew that he sometimes delivered supplies to Mantle, supporting the resistance. Sometimes he hunts Grimm, studying them. A few times she had seen him meeting with Raven, even before she officially joined the Menagerie army.

The information about that disappeared very quickly.

It seemed to Neo that the more Jonathan realized how dangerous the surrounding situation was, the more he sought to expose himself to that danger, as to… what?

Protect them, Cinder and Neo, from it?

Neo glanced at her watch and sighed.

She had another twenty minutes of mathematics ahead of her…